"avidly" poems
Somehow your heart enzymes inveigled a way into my system
I surmise it was your energising tongue which smuggled them in
my pseudoanaphylactic longing to snuggle in vein against your protein
its aim a happy interaction tugged by frenzied polypeptide chains
when your petite triglycerides coil avidly around my pH changes
hydrolysis replenishes steroids to stop any pleasure level plunge
so that functional-group transfers may intervene at all active sites
supervising where coenzymes await love's coursing stem cell sights
that photosynthesise my eyes to sensitise to you despite the dark
dancing in all my living cells with infectious smiles an epidemic
when your DNA can't polymerase enough of the audacious lipids
pleasing as they kiss the density away of fatty acids on soft lips
that release protease inhibitors in ways not too selective
so our hearts find their metabolic pathway audaciously live
and offer themselves completely to a frolic in love reactive
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
Blow my **** avidly
Rooted on your knees
Use your head for once!
Take it whole as I force in
Adore feasting of my *****
Let it run down and thank me
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 2:48 AM UTC
Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter
Joan of Arc battered
Also tattered but, easily dismissive
Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with
Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it-
I’m drifted
Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit
I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes
Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it
While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix,
To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks,
I can’t quit
Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips
Martyr to avoidance
I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines
Capably unstable
Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in
Avidly amiable
Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded
Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed
Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend.
Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors
And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings
Completely complacent
Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day
However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them.
Aggressive and progressive.
As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired
Suppose I’m a skeptic
Roasted or disconnected
Just jaded, just met you
Always over it too soon
Burnt but I’m amused.
I’m useful.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Betwixt an atmosphere of a holy nature
By a classic serenade of Christian lullabies
Unceremoniously my body sways to the beat
For every moment that elapses
More and more I become electrified
As in the wake of your presence
A song of budding amour is evoked
Try I may to suppress this sensation,
Though upon a lie I'd asphyxiate
Please do not allow me to suffer
To languish within a plethora of
A sheer and utter coating of blindness
Darling forgive me if I impose
I avidly seek for signs of proof
To know if this is real
What would happen?
© 2011 (All rights reserved)
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 7:04 PM UTC
I become more erudite at night.
I feel a sprite within me ignite words,
by candlelight I feel the old masters lift their quills,
place nib in ink and nib to paper.
I invite their words and imagery to suffuse me,
use me in this modern world.
Make new what once was old.
Where nib would glide I touch my screen,
watch avidly as sentences appear,
magic symbols transformed to meaning,
like runic stones of old, or bones thrown for reading.
My words by candlelight enfold and embrace me,
in the knowing language of the poets, bards and storytellers.
Tonight, I delight at my copywrite scribed by candlelight.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
Adorable Angelina
Accepted Anchoring
At Academia,
Acute Angelina
Achieved Anchoring
Award And
Amazed Abundantly,
Angel Angelina
Always Added
Active Authoritative,
Awesome Angelina
Achieved Anchoring
Ambitions Avidly.
__Fathima Ruhee__
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 5:40 AM UTC
We were building a boat.
A sea-worthy vessel made for two.
A cosy little nest,
a shell of the promise for me and you.
We made it sturdy...
From keel to hull.
We sang to each other
to oust the lull.
We spoke of the adventures,
together we'd avidly chase.
We braced for the storms,
we'd most likely face.
As the last drop of sweat...
Fell freely to our feet,
the boat was done.
What were once planks, was then complete.
I climbed aboard
and hoisted up the sail.
You lingered for a bit...
Seemingly cautious that the boat might fail.
The craft quickly drifted out to sea...
When the wind, the sail did willingly welcome.
I cried out to you so you could hop on...
So with me you could come.
But you simply stood there...
With a gaze incredibly deadpan.
As the currents pulled me further,
I only then realised...
That I was never your plan.
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
The staining aroma we so avidly inhaled in the reign of night
At tables made of glass that reflet the moonlight
The faint white illumination lit our misdeeds of younger
Keeps me reminiscent of days of simpler
Plagued & blessed by lack of consideration
No respect for damnation
We lived without hesitation to be free
To feel we truly needed to be
I sit alone now inhaling what was once shared and sought-after
Feeling but trying not to think-of those days of before
Watching storms roll through, making me feel spectator to memories of more
I retreat into myself, knowing those days are over
I could never imagine I'd look back on those days and call them simpler.
I keep running from what i can't see and it's lead me in circles
Cycle through the times to get to the next
Dec 19, 2021
Dec 19, 2021 at 11:22 PM UTC
*A weaver of words in deep quiet reflects
In his mind’s prism, many a thought deflects
Within him the rainbow colours of passion rage
He scripts songs of beauty and rhyme on page after page
He has no magic, neither erudite nor clever
But hungry souls, his poems avidly devour
Stirring their hearts as wind on whispering leaves
And each line, some alluring fancy weaves
As from pen to paper his fancies flow
In a lingua that has an unusual glow
Though a great epic may not be born
His songs move even hearts of flint n’ stone
He sings the paeans of love and life
Of men in cross roads of toil and strife
He awakens dead worlds long forgotten
Taking us to magic lands never trodden
His songs have echoes of a heavenly rhapsody
Drowning the Earth in flooding melody
Fuelling hearts with thoughts one cannot name
Spawning tempestuous passions one cannot tame*
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 5:49 AM UTC
Her bold eyes probe,
his body quite avidly,
his crotch, gets well scorched!
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
It's a pity, its a pity
though we hate anything thorny,
and silently meditate on serendipity,
the cactus, we planted inadvertently,
among chrysanthemums and roses
we swear by,
grew real quickly, proliferated avidly.
Look at their ghastly smiles, prickly.
You find them raise and shine early,
on any weather, rain, drought or snow,
when the gentle flowers all are withered ,
and sleepy, they remain succulent and sturdy.
It's a pity, fragrant flowers loose heart easily,
but cactus, without fail, remain alert and cocky,
It's a pity, nice ones can't fight back and smile,
look, the cactus flowers ask for nothing special,
though spiky, they make us believe we are lucky.
Aren't we thankful, for their tender mercies?
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 12:39 AM UTC
1
The surging water threw strange shapes,
Waiting crows with stabbing beaks
In the sky and in the drowned souls,
Festering in the swell.
The huge irrepressible waves
Spread wings flattening houses with a single downward swipe.
It was a sudden death,
They died screaming-avidly watched by millions nestling before TV sets
Unmoved if sympathetic.
They had watched enough CGI
Not to be bothered by such drama.
2.
The girl quietly combed her hair,
Bitter black in the lamplight,
Watching the snarling fox shoot from its lair
Slathering with fright.
As she lifted her arm again
The salt spray struck her, flattening her face
The wave soothed where her smile had been
Her limbs acquiring a greater grace.
It ****** in cars and houses, gulping down
The unresistant landscape with unforgiving speed,
Turning the living green into regurgitated brown
Digesting the landscape with ******** greed
It drew her little body back into the equalising sea
Just another bit of debris.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
Eyes closed, counting the careful sheep
Bounding over broken fences breathlessly,
Tired and unused to tripping over traps
Spared by the seconds sat in contemplation's lap.
Your lids, lying lushly atop layers of
Dark pools of depth, spinning splendid tales of love,
Trust, and heartache, I can truly tell today
Was a day of definition for words I wisely said.
Lips moving in silent rhythm, rhyming, I imagine, with words unsaid.
And as I assume the memories in mind the moment falls silent and dead.
A quip, perhaps, spawned by sentries of silence growing lax,
Falling in frequent motion to the floor - hypothetically, for I cannot ask.
Your sleeping state causes silence to spread and create
An empty essence in the heavy air around us
Birthed from broken intentions and misapprehensions
I had upon our meeting of matters as such.
Please, presume to sleep through my present departure
Deprived of arrows from Venus's archer
Allow my invading presence to avidly intrude
Once more, though his objection's mouthpiece does not move.
Lightly, so as to lay loosely upon the morrow,
I brush bold lips upon the brow pulled in sorrow
But whose silent reverie starts in sleepy surprise -
But, to my relief, falls back to oblivion with a sleepy sigh.
Brushing trembling tips of fingers foolishly
Across the air that passes on the lips
That burn with oxygen's contact with it -
I start when I see his tired eyes
Regarding me with scant surprise.
Those dark pools of infinite sorrow lay sight
On me, caught sneaking silent vows of affection,
And a blush engulfs everything from my eyes to my knees
On which his wary hand waits in his wakeful state.
Several silent moments descend indignantly,
And I dare to risk retribution for crimes committed
But to my sudden surprise I see a challenge in his eyes
And abruptly I am bound to the ground beneath him
And though I know once I stole a simple innocent kiss
He steals now from me my heart through my lips.
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 8:13 PM UTC
the baby pin oak in my backyard
is strong enough to support
the wild bird feeder
blue jay watches avidly till the coast is clear
relaxing in the garden jhoola
I sip my morning tea
a lime pastel butterfly flutters close to
my cup and a tawny brown lizard
his balloon red throat puffing love-calls
scampers over my feet
sky drenches the moment in blue
and chest thumping sounds of a
Saturday baseball game
herringbones through the fantastic
fabric and handiwork
of the here and now
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 4:06 PM UTC
she weaved a tapestry of notions for me
on the lower level of grand central station
it had rained that night
my jacket retained its damp warmth of summer storm
we ran down the long ramp
past the times square express
to that bench
where she sits tonight
weaving dreams
and avidly talking to friends
by the track where we used to catch the train
to that sleepy little town with the apple orchard
and blueberry farm
near hartford
we had wandered all night along the wet humid streets
and talked about everything under the sun
and a few things over it too
just holding hands and walking
laughing and whispering
i was a young man
you were a young woman
we had the world at our feet
we were everything to eachother
under the sun
and a few things over it as well
tonight she weaves a tapestry of notions for me
in the lower level of grand central
while i rock my childs crib in the bahamas
she talks to her friends
who allways are sitting just there
tho they have all long since gone
her imagination they are allways there
the notion is that no matter where you go
you will allways be loved
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
from the very first glimpse of world that greets you every sunday,
tuesday
or perhaps thursday morning
the thought of an ordinary day will not dawn upon you
for every day, to you, will be as good as your first
and as bad as your last
life is your dress rehearsal
and its creatures are your cast
seated at the breakfast table
alone
with alphabet cereal
swirling in milk
avidly spelling out the names
of all the galaxies
and daydreaming
of sleeping under the stars
daytime means schooltime
which is synonymous with
underpaid teachers
and high-pitched gossip
and boys with peach fuzz
who never bothered remembering your name.
the cafeteria is a habitat
which houses many
different species
of human
including the undercover poet
scribbling on a grease-stained
napkin :
the ballad of a sad child.
upon a steady return
to the undercover's residence
three things occur:
his fountain pen is quenched
his tears dried
and of course, a bitter realization
that his day had been most banal.
so once again the poet sets off
footsteps patting against textured carpet
your shaky palms
grabbing layers of soft duvet
dragging it across the empty floor
through the hallways
and out the front door
under the stars
you lay and weep: safe forever
and fully submerged in the calm of the night
forever is not a lifetime
it seems
but the time it takes
for the sun to win over the moon
in a fight
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 4:04 AM UTC
I read the Bible, totally
To consecrate me.
I read Castaneda avidly
To elevate me.
To teach myself to speak
I wrote poetry.
To calm my neuroses
I performed musically.
The sky above me
The earth below
So much about this world
That I do not know.
I am definitely an animal
But not so very wild.
Yet not so very different
Than I was as a child.
I learned all the verses
They taught me in school.
I tried to heed the warnings
Not grow up as a fool.
I memorized the advice
From those who seemed to care.
I counted all my blessings
And did not forget to share.
It’s not always easy
The lessons from school.
It takes a lot of courage
To live by the Golden Rule.
When life doesn't go right
As it will to all good men,
I remember all the good I did
And then do it all again.
The sky above me
The earth below
So much about this world
That I do not know.
I am definitely an animal
But not so very wild.
Yet not so very different
Than I was as a child.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
i've been looking for
a thrill lately.
not the roller coaster riding, sneaking out
at two in the morning type of thrill, but
the type of thrill that evokes enough
curiosity to make rebellion
look like nothing.
i'm talking about
the thrill that makes you want
so much more than what you are given,
so you avidly seek out
the unknown in hopes of
having the taste of adrenaline on your lips.
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 8:15 PM UTC
Eyes are blue gleaming diamonds,
words concealing gold dust
are sealed between the lips
that avidly taste thunder,
expression of my hidden hunger.
Hands bind me closer til
rib cages say "No more"
Like nibs, nails on my back
write ****** verses direct,
forcing one to spread eagle
as the orchestration moves to crescendo
itinerant eyes emit sizzling light,
the cloud that engulfs , caresses every inch,
a bamboo grove in wind
dances whispering love, in many tunes,
tells one to lie under it's canopy, I submit,
hear my songs from a secret center,
eyes speak the lingo of love, light spills
heart beats against heart, in mad frenzy,
we need no words any more.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
I tried to block you out.
I cup my hands over my ears,
Sing some immature tune
To keep your memory away.
It didn't work.
My mind still goes,
To the way you touched me then.
To the way your strong, stretched fingers
Traced my childish frame.
To what you made me do.
I still replay a movie in my head.
"It's just a game" you promised.
"All the big kids do it."
No. They don't.
You're so ****** up that you
Were able to convince me that
Something's wrong with me.
I didn't ****** a child.
I didn't lie to and coerce a seven year old
To give into my own deranged needs and desires.
You did that, remember?
Part of me almost feels
Sorry for you.
I know you have your problems
That you were born with
But that is not my fault
And that is certainly not
A seven year-old version of me's fault, either.
I told about what you did to me
When I was fourteen.
Some people say it must have been nearly impossible
To keep a secret like that for seven years.
It was honestly harder for me to break that secret.
Part of me was emboldened.
Part of me started to feel okay.
Until it all happened again.
My ex and I have been intimate
But it is always consensual.
When a friend took advantage of me
Right after some tragic events took place
I didn't know what to do.
I couldn't speak.
I couldn't think.
It happened so fast
But we didn't *****
I found my voice to deny that,
Avidly.
That, however
Is a little less black and white.
The way you abused me, clearly
Was wrong, illegal, and disgusting in every sense of the word.
I understand that.
I do not understand what he did to me
And it has left me more confused than anything else.
I won't lie to you,
I am ****** about what you did to me
Still, to this day.
I would never confront you about it
I love your mother too much to hurt her that way.
I am ****** about what he did to me, too.
I still have the world's hardest time
Going to school, to work, anywhere
Out of fear that I will see him.
When I do see him,
I feel my breaths get short and raspy
And my heart beats too quickly for me to catch up
My body shakes,
And I get an overwhelming nauseous sensation.
However, I am trying to cope with this.
It will not keep me bound.
You never kept me bound.
I am breaking through every chain
That has strangled me like a noose.
I am accepting this
With every bone of my being
So I can move on with my life
So I can teach others
So I can become stronger
No thanks to you.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
Morning quietude rules the glade,
butterflies, thousands are on ground,
spread out colored sprouts-
avidly seeking salt of the earth.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 1:09 PM UTC
Swimming **** in the river,
a forgotten art since childhood;
he and she redeemed it,
during their love's fervour,
tasting fire.
Fire and water, they played with,
after every dive, her gleaming lips,
met his sun blazed pair,
a subdued thunder
exquisitely shook their bodies
uncontrollably for moments
right from the deepest root.
Giddy with pleasure,
her eyes tightly remained closed,
but lips drank sun
from his lips avidly
without stop.
She felt her body taut,
like guitar strings,
ready to sing.
What he thought was this:
*my girl is a red hibiscus flower,
that would bloom, fold by fold,
when tantalizing fingers of desire,
caress the buds,
gently first and then passion's currents
sow goosebumps all over.*
She is a vine,
that gets him entangled,
her hands emits sparks.
Flames on her lips,
seek downward path,
and lights the unmitigated
embers of *****
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 7:47 AM UTC
*a dewdrop
on the petal
of your red lower lip,
tempting
like a drop of honey,
waiting
to be tasted
by a bee;
imagine me,
I took it so gently,
with my lips
and avidly made mine
and heard beauty speak
to me in a secret tongue,
I am your sun, you said,
the sun that thrills you with
a warm kiss, when
it's most needed.*
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 11:32 AM UTC
I was depressed when I stepped into the
L train
what was more visible though was my
anxiety from being a
bus-girl and not avidly riding
dingy. rat-infested. pee-reeking. hobo-filled.
trains.
I sat right next to the most evil looking
character from a beloved Disney movie.
He asked me how my morning was going
as he held his coffee in his left hand and
a cigarette in the right.
breath reeking of sadness greater than mine.
_such a New Yorker thing_.
I told him about my friend moving away and how I was so sad I made my mom cry
And then he told me about how he was sad when his friend decided not to share a cardboard box with him..and I kinda just nodded
hoping he wasn’t serious.
train people are interesting so
in order for Joey- yes his name was Joey- to stop talking to me
I started to write about all the
sweetbitter things about the train
and if Joey just wanted to feel like he was relatable again..
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
So, my dear
I have some things I'd like to tell you.
I hope you choke on every word of this poem.
Where to begin?
When I was dying on the inside,
You took advantage of me
Decoded my feelings,
Bullied me all the way to second base
And beyond
How can you be so naïve
That you can convince yourself
That this was my fault?
I guess you've got everyone else fooled, too.
Nobody knows the truth.
Mom thinks I'm jumpy because I'm energetic.
Dad thinks I don't sleep well at night
Because I sleep too late in the morning.
They don't know it is because I feel *****
Because of you.
But who would believe me?
I already lied for you,
Saying you took advantage of me,
But telling them I still said yes willingly
The first time you asked.
If I told and you knew,
You would deny it avidly, saying
"It's not like I ***** you or anything."
And
"It's not like I forced you."
You're right.
I've done my homework.
It's called indecent assault
And coercion.
But I still can't bring myself to call it that,
Or to tell anyone.
So honey, you're pretty **** lucky
That it took me four months to understand
That what you did to me is wrong.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC